


Flowers For The Dead

by DesertLily



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables (Dallas 2014), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Canon Era, M/JP/M isn’t really a ship, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Not everybody dies, Post-Barricade, nb!Jehan, nonbinary!Jehan, they’re just kinda implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 04:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertLily/pseuds/DesertLily
Summary: What if Jehan survived the Barricade? What if they had to live with the consequences?





	Flowers For The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> All Amis first names are stolen from one if my friends ( ironicandpunny on tumblr)

There was a numbness that filled Jehan Prouvaire whenever they sat alone in the Cafe Musain. It was surreal to be there; to be alone. After everything that had happened, it felt almost wrong to be there - as if it would corrupt their existing memories. The backroom of the Musain was quiet bar Jehan’s thoughts and the ghosts of their friends. It was too quiet. The type of silence that was overwhelming and suffocating. There were no more of Enjolras’s grand speeches. No matter of Grantaire’s cynical rebuttals to Enjolras’s every word. No more of their friends’ laughter and conversations. No more of their friends.

The Barricade was something they knew they could never forget. How could they? How could anyone? It haunted their every dream and seeped in to their every moment. Jehan could remember it so vividly. The wild excitement as they all built up their Barricade. Each and every one of them disillusioned to believe they would be enough to overthrow the government. But they hadn’t been. The excitement slowly died away only to be replaced by fear as the truth set in. They would all die on the Barricade. They had been doomed from the beginning.

Jehan still wasn’t entirely sure how they were alive. Musichetta said she had found them barely clinging to life as she had searched the dead for Joly and Bossuet. She was perhaps the only one they knew who truly shared in their grief. Musichetta had lost her heart on the Barricade and Prouvaire had lost their spirit. They had lost their hope and their spark. How could they not? Practically everyone they cared about was gone. They had never felt so alone.

Everything felt hollow now. Everything felt wrong. Jehan had once dreamed of a better future; of a truly equal world and and a better France. Now, after losing those who had meant the most to them, they realised that perhaps it had been foolish. Sometimes dreams should remain dreams. The reality of them was just tragedy. It was a sad story that could be passed down for generations. A failed rebellion. A cautionary tale. Don’t oppose the Government or you’ll end up like the boys on the Barricades; lost forever and forgotten. Though, Jehan wouldn’t forget their friends. They refused to let their memory fade.

Only one semblance of good came from 1832. In their grief, they found a kindred spirit. Montparnasse. Though he would never admit it, he had lost friends on the Barricade too. Just as Jehan had, he had experienced that same unimaginable loss. It still didn’t entirely feel real. How could something so awful be so grounded in reality? How could the world reveal itself to be so cruel?

The two had met on sheer accident. Jehan had took it upon themself to tend to the graves of those lost on June 5th. Amongst those was Éponine Thenardier, Marius’s friend and Gavroche’s sister. On one such occasion when they had gone to visit her, they had found Montparnasse standing in front of her tombstone. Jehan had watched almost transfixed as the breathtaking man laid a lily on her grave. Somehow, they had managed to strike up a conversation with him a short while after. That conversation turned in to afternoon tea and from there their relationship blossomed. The one piece of good that came from the Barricade was that Prouvaire had found a home for their heart.

It was a love that had blossomed rapidly - almost shotgun in nature. The connection between the two had been near instance. Perhaps it was just a way to deal with their grief. Perhaps it was genuine love. All Jehan knew was there was no where they would rather be than in Montparnasse’s arms. He made them feel safe; secure. He gave them the stability they had been lacking since the death of their friends. Gang member or not, he gave them a sense of security and Jehan would treasure every second of it.

It took a lot of adjusting to. There was a void in Jehan’s life that they had no idea how to fill. There would be no spending time their friends. There would be no more playing dominos with Grantaire or telling Bossuet about their latest poem. There would be no more meetings. Jehan had almost lost their entire sense of belonging. Everything they had used to shape their very being was gone. Everyone who had matter was gone.

As time went on, tales of the Barricade began to fade in to urban myths and legends. No one talked about what happened there. No one but those who had lost those closest to them. No one but Jehan, Montparnasse, and Musichetta. They would not let the brave souls lost there be forgotten. They could not. Not now. All that remained were memories and all three would do whatever they could to preserve them.

Things eventually began to settle in to some warped version of reality. They learnt to pretend as if things were normal for a time. Then Musichetta found out about her pregnancy and things just grew beyond complicated. With both possible fathers dead, there was no doubt the baby would be born out of wedlock. It would be a bastard child and the consequences would follow both it and its mother for the rest of their lives. Then Jehan had stepped in. The legality of any possible marriage to Montparnasse would be questionable whilst one to Musichetta would be perfectly legal. It didn’t take much for the other two to agree to it. Besides, it was a marriage in name alone. Musichetta’s heart would always belong to Joly and Bossuet. Jehan’s heart firmly belonged to Montparnasse.

Thus Jehan and Musichetta Prouvaire, along with their good friend Antione Montparnasse, found themselves moving in to a modest home in a nice neighbourhood. It would be a good place to raise a child. A safe place. Even if it didn’t take long for rumours to begin to spread of Monsieur Prouvaire’s extramarital activities with Monsieur Montparnasse. Though, rather those than gossip about a bastard child. It was somewhat less of a scandal, at least. The child was named Theo Matheo Prouvaire. If he could not take the surnames of his true fathers then they would give him their first names instead.

The family of four (seven if you counted Jehan’s cats) managed to function as a family in a relatively normal manner. They raised Theo to know about his fallen fathers and his fallen uncles. They made sure he knew his true heritage. Though, the boy was never told whether Joly or Bossuet were truly his father. Just that they were both as good as. Yet portraits he had seen always caused the boy’s suspicions to lean towards Bossuet. Jehan had never confirmed nor denied his speculation. They simply did their best to change the subject instead. Out of them all, Jehan was the one with the most spare time. Musichetta took work as a seamstress wherever she was able to find it. After all, being a mother was very much a full time job. Montparnasse seemed to be picking up more and more legitimate work as he settled in to their normal life. Jehan found themself growing lucky. A book of their poems - all written to deal with their grief from the Barricade - had gained a degree of success. They were able to share their remaining grief with the world.

Things changed when Theo was seven and a new family moved in down the street. Usually Jehan wouldn’t be the most interested in new neighbours - people came and went all the time. This family, however, was different. Supposedly they were a wealthy family of five; a man, a woman, and their three children. But it was the family name that had Jehan truly hung up.

Pontmercy.

It was merely a coincidence. It had to be! Just someone else with the same name. Marius Pontmercy had died with the others on the Barricade. They had been sure of it! They had mourned for him! Though, Jehan had never actually seen his body. It had been lost in the chaos. Not to mention how they had been avoiding all the old places they used to visit with their friends in Paris. If he had survived, they would have had no way of finding out. But that was one big ‘If’. They didn’t dare let themself hope. They couldn’t. Their friends were all dead. Jehan was sure of it.

Still, the name lingered in their mind. It lingered and they couldn’t quite push it away. It brought back memories Jehan had been desperately trying to suppress. It hurt too much to remember. Then they finally caught sight of the family moving in and everything fell apart. Jehan had just been outside to tend to the small garden they kept when they had seen him in the corner of their eye. They were seeing things. They had to be. Yet, as they slowly turned to look at their new neighbours, Jehan had no doubt as to the identity of the man in front of them. “...Marius?” Their voice cracked with disbelief as they spoke. This couldn’t be real. Marius was dead...Wasn’t he?

The man whirled around to face them the second he heard his name. Jehan barely had time to realise what was going on before a pair of arms was wrapped around them. “Prouvaire! Good God! You’re alive!” Pure relief flooded Marius’s voice as he pulled his friend close. “What of the others? Do any of them live?”

A sad smile crossed Jehan’s face as they heard the hope in Marius’s voice. They didn’t doubt he was hoping for Courfeyrac’s survival. Slowly, They shook their head. “Just me.” They murmured. “I thought you were dead like the others, Marius. It’s so good to see you again, and to see your beautiful family too.”

“Fantine, Jean, and Timothée are my pride and boys. Cosette is the love of my life.” Jehan remembered the other man’s mentions of Cosette in the days leading up to the Barricade. They were happy for the couple. Though, the second son’s name caught their attention. 1478

“You named your son after Courfeyrac.” A certain fondness filled their voice at that. “Musichetta named her son, Theo after Joly and Bossuet. He deserved at least something from his fathers.” Jehan had never allowed for Theo to call them ‘father’. It didn’t feel right. Not when the boys true fathers had been such dear friends.

“How could I not? He was my closest friend.” A certain sadness filled Marius’s voice. He may not have been as close to the other Amis as Jehan had but they had been his friends too. He had experienced the same loss. “I’m glad to see you well, Prouvaire.”

They smiled. “May I invite you in for some tea? I feel as if we have much to catch up on.”

Marius returned the smile. “I think I would like that.” For the first time in years, Jehan felt like perhaps everything would be alright. 

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Comments are appreciated or hmu at desert-lily on tumblr!


End file.
